


Sally and The Freak

by TimeladyofShalott



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Gen, His Last Vow, Moriarty is Alive, Sally Donovan - Freeform, Sherlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:31:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeladyofShalott/pseuds/TimeladyofShalott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We didn't see much of Donovan in S3 of Sherlock so I wanted to write in her reactions to the events in His Last Vow. Also gives a bit of back story to the character of Sally and her relationship with Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sally and The Freak

Sally Donovan woke up with an ache in her head and a rancid taste in her mouth. With eyes still clamped shut, trying their best to block out the rising sun, she fumbled about for something on her bedside table. It wasn’t there. Her phone, where was her phone? Admitting defeat she opened her bleary eyes and began patting around under her bed for the missing mobile. _Gotcha!_ Her hand clasped around it and she brought it up to eye level, wincing at the bright light it emitted.

**‘Hi Sis. thanks for coming last night. It meant a lot. See you soon, yeah. Xxxx Cara’ Cara’s Mob**

**‘I’ve just read your texts. Are you drunk?’ Anderson Mob**

_Ugh_. she’d look at the texts she’d sent last night later.

**‘The photos are up on Gigi’s FB page! ’ Unknown Number**

She definitely would not look at the photos from last night.

**‘BBC NEWS. NOW.’ Lestrade Mob**

Sally sat up in bed and looked around under the covers for the remote. She turned her TV on and let it whir away in preparation to do something other than collect dust. She fluffed up her pillows and helped her slightly chubby cat climb into bed with her. He had been a gift from her father, the last gift she had gotten from him before he died, a British Shorthair named Doyle. The cat nuzzled against her and she kissed his head, scratching the back of his neck as she did so.

‘Sherlock Holmes came into the public eye four years ago’ the TV blared.

She groaned as pictures began flashing up on screen of Sherlock. Sherlock with John by one of her crime scenes. Sherlock in his stupid deerstalker hat. Sherlock buying Cluedo at Toys R Us.

Sally thought back to all the times that man had walked all over her crime scenes, paying no respects to victims or witnesses, blagging his friends in like it was some sort of nightclub. Sherlock Holmes loved crime, he craved it. And Sally Donovan hated him for it.

The first time she had met Sherlock Holmes he had walked into her interrogation room and made a six year old child cry. The kid was traumatised and that freak had just waltzed in and spoke to him like he was dirt. No advocate for the kid yet or anything, just that man screaming at him about ash. Sally thought back to being interviewed about her own mother’s death and everything that she had fought desperately to make happen since that day. She had applied to university, the first in her family, and helped her sister shape up in time to do the same. Now Cara was a real estate agent with a loving fiancée and Sally was doing her job under the shadow of Sherlock bloody Holmes.

She looked down at Doyle and back up at her TV screen. ‘Breaking News: Eccentric Detective Kills Media Mogul’. Sally’s eyes widened. She turned up the volume.

“Yes, It has been confirmed that Sherlock Holmes has shot Charles Augustus Magnussen at his home in Europe. No word yet from Holmes’ lawyer but we have Sophie Stones waiting outside Baker Street now. Sophie?”

Sally sat in shock. She had always thought that one day Sherlock Holmes would snap. That one day there would be a body on a slab somewhere and Holmes was the one to put it there. But she had never thought she would be proud of him for it.

Magnussen was repellent. In her line of work she had met some truly disgusting individuals, Sherlock Holmes included, but none of them compared to that man. She had met him once, at Cambridge when she was studying for her degree; he had looked right through her. She had met his gaze in a hallway, he smiled at her and it made her skin crawl. It was like he knew. He knew everything about her...

Doyle meowed and Sally was brought back to reality. As she moved towards the kitchen she laughed a little and thought ‘ _the freak did good’_. She fumbled about in the cupboards, shoving a few biscuits into her own mouth before sorting out Doyle’s cat food. She put the kettle on and walked back into her bedroom carrying bowls of water and Felix.

She dropped them both, staring in horror at the television. She could hear the sounds repeating in her head like they were being played in every flat in her block. She read along with the words on screen, even though they were now scorched on her brain. This couldn’t be happening. She had to call Lestrade. She moved closer to the bed and saw the screen in its full horrific glory. There he was staring back at her with his dark button-like eyes. She picked up the remote and turned off the TV but she could still hear it. His voice echoed in her mind as she punched out Lestrade’s number on her phone. That voice. Those words. Those two words.

“Miss Me?”


End file.
